


Is this a date or a standoff

by MischiefJoKeR



Series: Jimlock Tumblr Prompts [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Ficlet Collection, M/M, Prompt Fic, Texting, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-05-06
Packaged: 2018-01-23 20:29:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1578533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MischiefJoKeR/pseuds/MischiefJoKeR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and Jim have their first date, or that's all Sherlock could think to call it.</p><p>A collection of Jimlock/Sheriarty prompts from my tumblr account, Jimlock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Is this a date or a standoff

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt 1:  
> Sheriarty, first date by tardisandwings
> 
> a/n:   
> Rating: T
> 
> Warnings: Pre-Reichenbach. Jim being a desperate shit and Sherlock doing things because he can, having no idea what classifies as a date.

He wasn’t sure if this counted as a date, let alone his first date.

Sherlock Holmes never participated in dating, at least dating by the John Watson standards. Two people going out and having fun, his own definition, he accomplished quite frequently. When John sat him down and explained that while dating could be simplified to this, there were many more implications that usually went along with the prospect of a good date. 

He did go out with one other person, yes. They were having fun. One had a detonator in his hand and Sherlock simply stood with bated breath and dilated pupils, bristling with exhilaration.

"Seems we’re at a bit of an impasse, my dear." The Irish voice dipped lower than it seemed capable of from such a slightly built man. Sherlock let out a hum, his fingers clenched at his sides and drumming his palms. "You could have just stayed all cozy at home taking tea." A smile quirked his lips, his eyelids shutting just slightly at the act in amusement. "But, I suppose, when you get an address you can’t imagine keeping me waiting." 

He had been lounging as he usually did when cases were in short supply. A text from a restricted number was interesting, especially when it contained the only information he liked.

[SMS:] 222c Baker Street. Midnight. Had repairs, hasn’t it? xJM

The location across the street was previously the prime spot for Moriarty’s first bombing, the prequel to the five pips. Sherlock hadn’t paid mind to the construction, but it must be in decent shape now.

Decent enough shape to be blown sky high again, apparently. 

"I can’t leave you to your own devices. You might get the idea that you can do whatever you want." Sherlock responded. 

"The Virgin had to come and ruin my fun, I get it…" The consultant let out an exaggerated sigh. He took longer steps than he should be capable of, his shoulders straight. The den of the flat was refurnished, just mildly. He took one look at the chair he’d crossed to and turned to face Sherlock again. It was much too unpleasant for his suit. "We could just take a seat. Have some drinks. Discuss secondary school accomplishments and who’s shagging who." Moriarty’s grin turned wolfish as Sherlock felt his own face skew into a scowl. 

"You mock me. You can detonate that whenever you feel but you’re not." 

"Correct." Moriarty’s consonants clicked hard. 

"You expected me to come barreling in with a sharpshooter and have a reenactment of the pool, but with the explosives in an unknown location."

"It is such a rarity you do what is expected, darling."

"The fact that I’m unarmed and alone and yet you’ve still not done anything but pace around and leave yourself open tells me that the detonator is a fake." Sherlock’s chin tilted in the slightest. Moriarty’s grin stretched across his face before he looked into his hands where he held the small rectangle, flipping it in his fingers.

"Aw darn, caught me. As if i would bomb the same place twice." He popped his hands up suddenly, the device flying out of them and clattering to pieces a few feet away. 

"Yes, that’s another clue."

"You didn’t think of it until I just brought it up." 

"I didn’t bring it up because I preferred to not bring up one of your cleverer habits." Sherlock folded his hands behind his back. Moriarty shrugged, shoulders riding high under his suit jacket. He took further steps and tugged a chair out from the small kitchenette, dimly lit and painted dull grey. 

Sherlock watched him round the table and pull out the opposite seat before seating himself. A brown sack was lifted from under the counter and two cups of tea were set on the scratched counter. The detective stepped around and took the second chair. It was eerily similar to Jefferson Hope, the cabbie, and his talk.

Once he’d sat down, James Moriarty leaned back into the awful wooden chair and began speaking. Nothing on the business of murder either. it was simpler things. People he had to fool with his disguises, how they treated each other, how deplorable they were. Sherlock waited for some time, realizing that this was aggressively normal, but coming from his nemesis was something interesting. He found himself interjecting with his own remarks. Insulting the normal people’s intelligence was something he could only talk to Mycroft about, which he refrained from doing so. The words were flying out of his mouth before he even thought to stop such things as complaining in companionship to a criminal.

A call to Mycroft or Lestrade would end that. Moriarty would be behind bars and drilled for information about the network Sherlock himself had yet to unravel. 

The thought didn’t even cross his mind until the two geniuses were immersed in silence what could have been hours later, empty containers of tea between them. Sherlock’s fingers were laced on the table as he was settled forward, while Jim—no longer Moriarty— had an arm slung over the back of his chair and the other resting on his knee. 

"Well then." Sherlock made himself say, rising to his feet. "Enlightening. Even without the talk of who is shagging who." 

Jim’s grin stretched across his face, the smile seeming to touch his eyes in a way unlike his previous ones. “Molly and her new fellow. Twiggy gent, looks like you. Fallback from dear Jim from IT.”

"That was not an invitation." Sherlock scowled, straightening his coat. "A better invitation is for you to get on with your plan to leave."

"Why, you gonna give me a head start before you call brother dear?" Moriarty rose to his feet too, lifting his jacket off the back of the chair. Sherlock hadn’t even noticed it had been removed in the midst of their talk.

"If I was I wouldn’t tell you."

"Less fun, that. Sounds like a challenge to me." the Irishman rolled his shoulders. He was no longer as tense as he had been before, now letting his limbs move fluidly. Sherlock had the foresight to realize he’d just played therapist with the most dangerous man is London. And reciprocated like they were chums catching up with each other. 

"Also not an invitation." Sherlock looked over his shoulder, opening the worn door of the flat. Jim slipped into his jacket and strode across the small expanse between the kitchen and entryway, sauntering through the door Sherlock held open. 

"Someday you’ll give me a real invitation.” Jim smirked, seeming more playful than his usual murderous quirks. Sherlock watched him, assessing the new information and adding it to the expanding mind space for Jim Moriarty. “But, I can do the invitations for the time being. Ring me sometime, yes?”

"Don’t count on it." Sherlock kept his face expressionless. Jim laughed, a low chuckle in his throat. 

"That wasn’t a no." He sang, an almost whisper, dark eyes bright and blown wide under his eyelids. He waved his fingers and descended the stairs, skipping all the ones that made a creak. Sherlock waited until the door down the hall clicked closed before departing the flat. 

By the time he made it across the street his phone had a new message.

[SMS:] How much of a head start until you’re chasing after me? xJM

Against his better judgement, he tapped out a reply as he dropped supine onto the couch.

[SMS:] Don’t sound too desperate. It’s looking more like you are chasing me. SH

It didn’t even take a minute for a response.

[SMS:] For now. But I will have you first, my dear. Maybe not now, but soon. Catch you later! xxJM

Sherlock couldn’t resist a smile.

[SMS:] No you won’t. SH


End file.
